


never enough for me

by mm_nani



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, M/M, Past sexual assault (no graphic description), jordan is a prince, this is some weird sex positive/sex centered kingdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-07 20:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/pseuds/mm_nani
Summary: Jordan Henderson needs to find a partner in time for his coronation ritual when his mother decides to step down as queen.or‘Are you trying to seduce me?’ Jordan asks, almost nonchalant and thinks he even manages to keep the way his stomach somersaults at the thought to himself.Adam pauses, breathe still, fingers lax against the underside of his shoulder blade, ‘yes.’ he says finally, sounds quietly apologetic, ‘my purpose is to lay with you.’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifyouwait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyouwait/gifts).



> Cristina i hope this is you and i haven't just gifted a hendollana harem au to some rando
> 
> Everyone@me: when are you going to finish your other wip?
> 
> me: have this au that no one asked for!!!!!!
> 
> At least I don't have any plot twists or anything planned for this? So it should be simple from start to finish unlike the other one...the lack of stevie in this concerns me a whole bunch. EDIT: lmao Stevie has appeared, this story has gotten away from me
> 
> somewhat beta'd by eafay and alex! if you see stupidity thats on me and not them!

‘Jordan.’

 

His mother’s stern voice interrupts him midchew, the soft, juicy lamb that was spreading a salty, citrusy taste inside his mouth suddenly turns bitter. That tone never bodes well, the last time it happened Jordan was sent to war and came back with a broken ribcage. 

 

‘Jordan, you need a partner.’ His mother’s voice is strained - _ awkward-  _ it throws Jordan off a little.

 

‘Studge is my partner.’ Jordan says, he decides to stick to drinking his wine instead, playing around with a piece of bread so as not to draw attention to his sudden loss of appetite.

 

‘Not a sparring partner Jordan, a  _ partner  _ partner.’

 

When Jordan stares back dumbstruck, his mother sighs. Her voice comes down to a worried yet exasperated whisper, ‘A  _ lover _ , Jordan.’

 

Jordan mouth goes in a quiet ‘o’, the bread feels heavy, like a slab of stone in his hands. He looks at it betrayed. When he recovers he manages to say, ‘but you can’t force that stuff.’

 

His mother looks like she’s trying her best to hold in an eye roll, ‘Yes but you can’t have a chance if you’re cooped up between the court and your room.

 

‘I go to parties.’

 

‘You go to official parties, unless you’re planning on marrying Klopp, I implore you,  _ court  _ someone.’

 

‘Who?’

 

His mother looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected to get this far, ‘Well, I don’t know yet. I could arrange for a ball.’

 

Jordan narrows his eyes at her, he knows what happens in the ‘balls’ in his kingdom. It’s not a place to find  _ love _ , exactly.

 

‘Oh come off it.’ His mother says with a gentle slap on his wrist, ‘not  _ that  _ kind of ball.’

 

‘What other kind is there?’

 

Jordan knows he’s got her. The hedonistic customs that celebrate the bounty and wealth of his kingdom, had never sat well with Jordan. But their culture and religions relies heavily on fertility and virility; Bringing together the bounties of the earth and body. Jordan has always hated it.

 

‘We could just have a feast instead. Invite all the daughters and sons of the-

 

‘Mother,’ Jordan cuts her off, he can tell that she’s stalling something. That it’s not just another Tuesday during which she suddenly started worrying about Jordan’s future companion, ‘what do you want?’

 

She sighs and the pause in the conversation finally allows him to notice that her serving of lamb is mostly untouched as well, ‘I’m thinking of stepping down as Queen.’

 

*

 

The harem is in an excited flurry when Adam blinks his eyes open. There’s hurried footsteps outside his door and muffled shouts, loud enough to rouse slumber but low enough to not make out what is being said. 

 

Adam sighs, resigned to not being able to go back to sleep. He’s still groggy when his roommate’s face suddenly appears above him, ‘get your ass up. There’s been a royal request.’ Emre’s face looks very close to having an emotion and this, more than anything else, stirs Adam’s interest, ‘oh?’ he asks, pulling on a robe over his cotton night dress. Emre is already standing next to him, ready with the tie that goes around the waist. Emre is ready already, robe and bath kit and all.

 

‘It’s for the Prince.’ Emre says and suddenly Adam is at least ten times more sympathetic to the flurry than before. This is surely a day, no one had seen coming, Poor Milly, their harem master must be freaked out of his mind. As predicted, when they get to the bathhouse, Milly is barking out orders left, right and centre, looking like he hasn’t slept in a hundred years. Every conceivable inhabitant of the harem seems to have crammed into the bathhouse all at once.

 

Adam and Emre stand in line for the individual washes. The showers here are separated by bamboo dividers to afford the users some privacy. It’s not much, from the line, Adam can still see people scrubbing out their buttholes. He chuckles at the thought of how most of this preparation is for naught.

 

‘Is there a point to all of us getting all primped up?’ Emre wonders from behind him, reading Adam’s train of thought perfectly ‘you know they’re just going to pick Salah.’ This was a strong possibility. While they had multiple members exclusively reserved for royal entertainment. Salah is arguably their most successful member; he is from good birth, a versatile and adaptive lover, according to rumors, and has the highest request back rates. Apparently, he has even served the King of Italy. With a quiet boyish charm and frankly a lovely, caring personality -  _ heck  _ \- Adam himself would probably vote for Salah. They don’t know much about the Prince, he’s never taken a bedmate from the harem before - or any perceivable bedmate for that matter - so gossip regarding him is very limited. 

 

Princely duties aside, he seems shy and sweet, with plenty of stories from the kitchen how impeccable his tableside manners are. Salah would be just his type - gentle, patient, comforting. Especially, and there’s a great possibility that it is, if this is going to be the Prince’s first time. Adam, himself, finds the Prince too stoic, if not incredibly handsome. Adam would certainly fuck him even outside his duties but he has his reservations on how generous - or for that matter,  _ good _ \- the prince would be as a lover.

 

Milly ushers them into the gardens and the ladies are already seated around the amphitheatre. Adam joins the ranks of the elites in the front, flanked by Salah and the Ox, their newest addition with an odd aversion to disclosing his actual name. Adam imagines moaning out ‘ _ Ox’  _ in bed and has to cover his mouth with his fingers to hide the laugh. Milly notices -because of course - and scowls. Adam schools his face into a perfect example of graceful solemnity. He can’t help the slight fidget of his fingers over the royal crest etched in gold on his red pants, the symbol of their affiliation with the royal court - an angry looking dragon-bird preying on a leaf. With everyone crammed in together all wearing the same uniform, they look like a terrifying cult in red and white.

 

Milly completes a headcount and then announces the arrival of the royal advisor to the queen, Jurgen Klopp. Klopp walks in, in all black and grey, his back is incredibly straight and strains against the silk of his waist length coat. The smile he breaks into is jarring against the sombre outfit. Adam watches Klopp’s eyes wander behind him, taking in the whole group and he must be pleased by something since his face softens and the smile tunes to something more natural, not quite as extreme as before. Milly still watches him nervously.

 

‘Right,’ Klopp starts, ‘I wanted to announce personally to you that his highness is preparing to take over the regency.’ Klopp pauses, knowing that a murmur will go around the group at the shock of the news that the queen is stepping down, ‘as you know, the acceptance ritual will require a partner.’ Another pause, he’s a good orator, he’s got the back and forth with the audience down to a science. ‘I’m pleased to let you know, one of you will be bestowed with that honor.’ A pleased gasp runs through the crowd. All of it is fake, of course, everyone’s known for a few hours already. But matters of the court is always part of an elaborate and often subtle ritual.

 

‘After careful consultation, the court has decided that the first person who will attempt to entertain his highness is Mohamed Salah.’

 

Adam hears an exhale go through the group as everyone applauses, of course no one is surprised but many were still holding out hope, as is natural.

 

*

 

Salah returns in two days. He doesn’t seem displeased, but then Salah is well versed in the art of discretion. He’s tight lipped regarding anything that happened - or hadn’t - in the prince’s bedroom and it’s Dejan who gets called on next.

 

Adam isn’t surprised when Dejan returns the next day.

 

No one else gets called on from their group which means that day, they’re trying their luck at the Ladies side. Adam is curious as to what the prince is planning or why he’s being so picky. The bedmate for the coronation ritual is not a commitment, rather it’s like choosing a performer for a big show. It’s only natural to pick a partner who would be experienced and familiar with the rituals of the court. He wonders if the prince has romantic notions swirling around in his idealistic head.

 

Adam isn’t surprised when four days later still, Milly comes in, sighs in one long breathe and says, ‘Adam, you are next.’

 

*

 

Klopp looks at him disapprovingly when he asks Studge to stay back and go over the new irrigation system being dug into the northern part of his kingdom for the third time. The reason he gives to the court for his thoroughness, is the impending address he must make to the farmers in three weeks but Klopp can see through his lies. 

 

Jordan is avoiding going back to his room.

 

Jordan hates having his privacy invaded every night like this. Everyone looks, sounds and acts the same way. Jordan knows that different people come to him every other night but at this point he can’t tell the difference. He’s frustrated because he doesn’t want to treat the concubines of his court poorly, on an objective level he understands the value of their service. He just wants to have nothing to do with it.

 

If it were up to him, he’d just have Klopp select someone and meet them the day of the consummation. But it’s more complicated than that. Even though the scriptures only require his partner be there for the coronation day, the court has built an intricate infrastructure around it. Starting from a month before the actual coronation, there are parties and banquets and public appearances that he must make with his selected partner.

 

Jordan doesn’t hold hope for finding anything real from anyone from the harem. But at least, he’d hoped he’d find someone he liked, someone who he could see being friends with. He’s grown up with stories of his parent’s courtship during his father’s coronation and it forms a part of his boyish fantasies that he can’t quite squash.

 

‘Adam,’ is all Klopp says before he finally decides to retire to his quarters for the night. Studge is looking at him pleadingly by the time its past midnight and Jordan is feeling a pang of guilt at dragging Studge through his problems and also making the new concubine, who has no say in this matter, wait.

 

Jordan relents with a sigh, ‘I suppose we can wait till the accountants return tomorrow.’ Studge looks so relieved that Jordan has to bite back an apology. He rolls his shoulders as he makes his way back to his room. He’s glad that he’s wearing his casual wear today, the coat already feels heavy on him, he’s not sure he could have dealt with floor length robes.

 

Adam is inside when he enters, sitting perfectly straight, impeccably dressed, beautiful, demure. 

 

Just like the rest of them.

 

‘I’m sorry for the wait.’ Jordan says perfunctorily when he enters, casts his coat aside as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Adam’s eyebrows raise just very slightly and Jordan has to hide a smirk as he pulls out his nightclothes. It wasn’t his intention to fool Adam into thinking they were going to have sex straight away. But imagining Adam’s shock that the chaste prince would straight away want to bed him does amuse him. He’s suddenly feeling a lot less tired.

 

Adam’s eyes flicker to the nightclothes in Jordan’s hands and he says, ‘my pleasure.’

 

‘Is it?’ Jordan asks.

 

Adam looks at him for a few seconds, like he’s unsure how to answer but then his entire posture goes lax all at once as he sighs and says, ‘no. My back hurts.’

 

They look at each other for one long second, Adam slouched now but very still, like he expects to be punished. Jordan breaks out into laughter first, prompting Adam to crinkle into his own line of chuckles and stretch out his shoulders. Adam’s face seems to open up, and behind the intricate makeup, Jordan finally starts noticing his soft facial features. Adam isn’t particularly beautiful, he doesn’t have the perfect hazelnut tinge of Salah’s skin or the sharp angles of Dejan’s jawlines but Jordan still feels weirdly comforted looking at him. 

 

‘You can change and lay down.’ Jordan says.

 

‘And you?’

 

‘I need to finish some work.’ 

 

‘To avoid laying next to me?’ Adam says as he reaches for Jordan’s discarded coat, starts folding it dutifully.

 

Jordan raises one eyebrow at him, he feels annoyed at being called out quite so brutally. Adam throws a furtive glance his way but his movements don’t slow, like he’s already figured out that short of an assassination attempt Jordan won’t try to behead him. Probably not even then.

 

‘My affairs are not your business.’ Jordan says trying to be cruel on purpose

 

Adam’s body moves in a way that would suggest he just scoffed but his expression doesn’t change ‘Laying with you is my business. In fact, it’s my only business.’

 

‘I could have you sent back for that.’

 

And this time Adam does scoff, ‘you’ll do that either way, right?’

 

Jordan doesn’t know if it’s Adam, if he’s just insolent, if that’s supposed to be his  _ appeal  _ point or if its because it’s late and he’s too tired to hide his annoyance at Jordan making him wait for over four hours.

 

‘Change and go to sleep.’ Jordan says, softly but firm and Adam can’t disobey a direct order.

 

*

 

Jordan wakes up because he’s almost falling off the edge of his bed. When he rolls over he does so on a soft lump of what his sleep addled mind makes out to be discarded clothes. When he tries to push it away thought, the lump grunts in protest and Jordan shoots up in bed, still teetering on the edge. 

 

From this angle he can see that most of the bed is unoccupied with Adam having edged him right to the end of his bed until Jordan was almost falling off. 

 

_ ‘Adam would do that.’  _ Jordan thinks and its incredulous because Jordan has no way of knowing what Adam is or isn’t likely to do.

 

Adam finally turns around to give Jordan more space but the way he was sleeping, reaching out for Jordan though not quite touching him makes something warm twist in Jordan’s stomach. He knows they both went to bed strictly squished into their sides with a sea of space between them.

 

Jordan can’t deny that he slept well.

 

It’s still relatively dark outside and Jordan decides to go back to sleep instead of watching the sunrise through, leaves less space between them this time.

 

When Jordan wakes up again, it’s a combination of the knocking at his door, the sun streaming through his window and a heavy warmth on one side of him and he’s drenched in sweat because of it. He’s not uncomfortable, in fact he might even be comfortable if not a little clammy.

 

‘C’min’ He barks out groggy with sleep when the knock sounds again. He realizes the moment he hears the click of the door that the warmth half on top off him is Adam and it’s too late to stop whoever is coming in. It turns out to be his kitchen attendant, Britta, who takes one look at him, turns around with a resounding, ‘oh’, the motion prompting her to drop the glass of milk she brings him in every morning, which falls with a loud clatter. The sound rouses Adam who wakes up with a sharp intake of breath, he seems to be taking in his position on Jordan’s chest with a bit of wonder. Britta steps on the the milk and almost slides to the floor and Jordan is trying to push Adam off him so he can help. 

 

But Britta only apologizes, a bright shade of red and runs out of the door.

 

Adam has finally gotten the hint and sat up and Jordan follows suit.

 

They look at each other, fully clothed, rumpled hair, looking like they woke up from a schoolboy sleepover than a night of rambunctious sex and burst into laughter.

 

Adam is lying on his side again, clutching his stomach, ‘I’m not even naked!’ he exclaims as he chortles and Jordan joins in, loud, full chuckles punctuating Adam’s squeals.

 

When they both finally come down, Adam is sprawled on his back, the collar of his nightshirt hanging enticingly off of one shoulder, ‘breakfast?’ he says between pants and subsiding laughter and Jordan can finally tear his eyes away from Adam’s collarbone at the sound of his voice, ‘please,’ he squeaks out.

 

*

 

‘Did you really sleep with him?’ Milly says in lieu of a greeting and Adam is tempted to just say yes. Jordan’s attendant had predictably done a good job of spreading her news. Adam can use the leverage.

 

‘No.’ There goes his leverage.

 

‘But I hear-’ Milly clears his throat to look appropriately ashamed of engaging in gossip, ‘-but there are reports of you two sleeping on the same bed.’

 

‘That is correct. But there was no sex.’ 

 

Milly, to Adam’s surprise, still looks impressed, ‘that’s further than where the rest got.’

 

‘How do you do less than that? One is supposed to sleep at night, no?’ 

 

Milly looks sheepish again, like he knows he’s doing something bad, ‘well, none of the others slept on the same bed as him.’

 

‘He made them sleep on the floor?’ Adam tries to sound horrified but he can’t help feeling a little self-satisfied.

 

‘No, he prompted them to sleep on the bed first and then never joined them. Salah woke up in the middle of the night to find the prince squeezed into the lounge.’

 

‘That’s helpful to know.’ Adam says to assuage Milly’s guilt in divulging personal information about the prince. Of course, this information would have been actually helpful  _ before _ Adam was sent to entertain him. But in the end pure instinct had led him to corner his highness into sharing a bed and it had all worked out for now. Adam tries not to let the pleasure show on his face. 

 

Milly studies his face for a few moments longer, like he’ll find the secret to Adam’s seduction technique if he keeps staring, ‘offer to draw him a bath.’ Milly says.

 

‘I’m not his manservant.’ Adam says slightly affronted.

 

‘You are what he needs you to be.’ Milly responds, voice steely.

 

*

 

Jordan tries to go about his day trying to ignore how Klopp is leering at him.

 

It’s disconcerting and Jordan is tempted to just say, ‘no we didn’t fuck,’ just for the shock value of it but he resists because he doesn’t want to give Klopp the pleasure of knowing that he’s in Jordan’s head.

 

Jordan doesn’t blame Britta, he’s known the news would spread the second she had ran out but he had hoped that maybe they had a bond of some sort. With her having served him for so long, that she would somehow keep it a secret.

 

Jordan stays stern the whole day, can feel the tick in his temple as he doggedly keeps every conversation strictly work related and tries to stay late again, past Klopp’s own bedtime. But Klopp is patiently waiting, serene smile never leaving his face as the hours tick on. Studge’s head is starting to sway with sleep and Jordan finally relents and dismisses court.

 

Predictably, Klopp follows him closely as they retire to their quarters.

 

‘How is the new bedmate?’ Klopp asks, perfectly innocent, something he’d asked Jordan after Jordan had met all the others. Jordan can hear the smug tinge to the question, even without looking at the set of teeth that Klopp can’t probably help showing.

 

‘Adequate.’ Jordan responds before picking his pace and turning a corner to take a detour back to his rooms. He still can’t escape Klopp’s hearty laugh.

 

Adam is in his room when Jordan arrives, Jordan had hoped Adam would have fallen asleep in one of the smaller auxiliary rooms in his chambers instead of lying in wait but here he is. He looks less artificial today though and that helps Jordan relax. Adam is still wearing makeup, Jordan can just about make out the dark kohl around his eyes but there’s less color and glitter. His clothes too are simple, a simple tunic over plain cotton pants. Jordan likes this look, likes that Adam doesn’t look like a dolled up present he’s expected to unwrap.

 

‘Can I draw you a bath?’ Adam asks and Jordan shakes his head.

 

‘It’s late, just go to sleep.’ Jordan says, unhooking the latches on his stiff shirt as he does so, Adam approaches him but he only helps Jordan slide his coat and then shirt of his shoulders, the touch quick and perfunctory. Adam doesn’t touch him when he unbuttons his pants but he doesn’t move away either, eyes fixed on the floor as Jordan undresses fully.

 

‘I’ve already drawn you a bath.’ Adam says, folding Jordan’s clothes over a chair. Jordan would have tried to feign annoyance but he had military training before tending to court’s affairs today and his muscles ache longingly at the thought of soaking in warm water.

 

‘Very well.’ He responds, trying to sound displeased, but Adam still smiles underneath his lashes as he leads Jordan to the washing room. Adam checks the temperature of the water and refills the tub with a bit of the boiling water he has ready on one side of the room. 

 

The room is steamy and Jordan relaxes despite his best efforts, ache and exhaustion causing his body to sag. It’s clear that Adam intends to be his attending during this and Jordan finds that he doesn’t really care anymore, pulls at the drawstrings of his underpants and lets it fall to the ground. Adam averts his eyes quickly, fidgeting slightly and Jordan clicks his tongue, ‘you don’t have to do that.’

 

Adam looks at him, straight, confident, his eyes roll across the length of Jordan’s body, expressionless, professional. Jordan lets out a breathe, he wasn’t sure if his nakedness would make the entire exchange unbearably awkward or not but Adam only pours in a couple of drops of lavender oil into the water before gesturing him to get in.

 

Jordan tenses and flexes his muscles when he gets in, the water only splashing softly around him, till he settles enveloped in a warm weightlessness. 

 

‘Let me wash your hair,’ Adam says as Jordan feels fingers running through his scalp, soothing, gently scratching, a mild, sweet smell of honey drifts down to his nose. Jordan’s hair is short, cropped in the sides so it doesn’t take long before Adam is pushing him down further into the water to pour water over his hair and wash out the soap. Jordan slides down awkwardly and Adam squeaks as he gets splashed behind him.

 

‘Sorry.’ Jordan says, turning around a little when he hears Adam withdraw from his side and then, ‘what are you doing?’ when Adam is pulling his tunic over his head.

 

‘It’s wet.’ Adam says and so it is, the shirt had soaked through so that a patch on Adam’s chest glistens when he takes it off.

 

Jordan can’t voice his objections at the distracting nature of Adam’s collarbone without sounding overly fussy, so he settles in low in the water so that Adam can finish washing his hair. Adam gently massages his scalp before sliding his hands down to Jordan’s shoulder. Jordan works to lather his front while Adam’s fingers press into the knots of his back.

 

Jordan moans without meaning to and Adam scoots close, his breathe warming the drops of water pooling into the crook of Jordan’s shoulder.

 

‘Are you trying to seduce me?’ Jordan asks, almost nonchalant and thinks he even manages to keep the way his stomach somersaults at the thought to himself.

 

Adam pauses, breathe still, fingers lax against the underside of his shoulder blade, ‘yes.’ he says finally, sounds quietly apologetic, ‘my purpose is to lay with you.’

 

‘Okay,’ Jordan breathes, he can’t place why he feels quite so gutted at the response, its the one that he was - arguably - hoping for, ‘Come here then.’

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've totally forgotten the grand total of people who's read a draft of this and offered me their encouragement. I apologize for being a garbage person but please know I appreciate you so much and you had a huge hand in this being continued.

Adam’s brain short circuits from the shock of the prince- the chaste, virgin prince - beckoning him closer with one long finger and a deep, sultry voice that takes most concubines years to perfect. His limbs thankfully catch up faster, getting up to kneel at the side of the tub, where their heads are at level with each other. Jordan pulls him in with two fingers, cold and wet against Adam’s chin and they kiss, slow and soft.

 

The angle isn’t the most comfortable but Adam’s stomach swoops from the careful way Jordan moves against him, breath gentle against his cheek. Adam pulls back, only barely, to look Jordan in the eyes and ask for permission, ‘your highness’ he starts to ask but Adam suddenly  _ wants  _ and it hits him like a punch to the gut.

 

‘Jordan, call me Jordan.’ Jordan mumbles, lips brushing against Adam’s and Adam looks stricken and scared and the next bit sounds too much like a plea, ‘at least in bed, call me Jordan.’ and Adam nods pushes their lips back together, the name catching in his throat -later, he’ll try later - and touches Jordan’s chest, right above his pecs. Jordan is all solid muscle and Adam aches to have him against himself, pressing into him, hard and unforgiving. For now, he settles for running his hand up and down his chest. Jordan gasps, kisses him deep, has his face gripped between two fingers and a thumb to hold him straight as his tongue ventures into Adam’s mouth.

 

Adam’s head swirls with desire and there’s a singular thought pounding through his head, ‘ _ he is not a virgin _ .’

 

Jordan’s kisses make him feel bold and he slides his hands down Jordan’s chest, until it’s slicing into the water, fingers light across Jordan’s stomach and - Jordan grabs his wrist, the sudden movement in the water reverberates across the room in a resounding splash. Adam feels like someone doused him with cold water, in fact a few droplets had sprinkled onto his chest.

 

Jordan looks apologetic but firm in his decision, pulls Adam’s hand out of the water, curling their fingers together and stands up, the water pours across his body in long, thick rivulets, curving along his muscles and Adam is a little mesmerized by the curves of Jordan’s body, lets himself look this time at his thick cock, standing proud amidst a bush of light colored pubic hair. Adam wants to bury his face in it, kiss him all over the inside of his thighs. 

 

Jordan pulls him up to stand as well, uses their linked hands as leverage to climb out of the tub. Adam is suddenly aware of how he’s supposed to be Jordan’s attending, tries to pull away to find the towel. Jordan only pulls him back in, right into his chest and kisses him again. Adam is surrounded, wet from Jordan’s body, cold against his chest, soaking his pants through but the cold is slowly followed by a persistent warmth from Jordan’s body. Adam feels helpless to Jordan’s will, can only wrap his arms around Jordan’s neck, brush back the wet strands of his hair and keep him close as Jordan slides their lips together, kiss after kiss, languid and deep, and then short and desperate like he can’t get enough of Adam’s taste. His heart pounds with desire - he’s so hard - but there’s an undercurrent of fear nudging along the back of his head; Adam is not supposed to lose control.

 

‘ _ This is the prince. _ ’ Adam thinks as Jordan finally lets him go, only to pull him out of the washroom, striding with purpose across the bedroom towards the bed, ‘ _ it’s only right that he would be a worthy opponent.’  _ Adam thinks as he’s being pushed onto the bed, legs spreading on autopilot to make room for Jordan climbing on top of him.

 

Something shifts in the mood as soon as Jordan is on the bed with him, Jordan is stiff, his kisses hard and tight-lipped, Jordan’s fingers scrabble against the button of Adam’s pants but can’t seem to get it off. Jordan grunts in frustration, stops kissing him and sits up to pull angrily at Adam’s pants. Winded by the sudden switch in mood, Adam reaches out to gently stop him. Jordan looks at him, eyes blazing but faraway like he’s looking straight through Adam’s head.

 

‘Your highness,’ Adam says, runs a hand across Jordan’s cheek, pulls his face to look at him, ‘Jordan.’ he tries again softly, carefully. Jordan takes a deep breath, moves quick like he’s been paralyzed all this time and swings off Adam to sit next to him on the bed.

 

‘You don’t want to?’ Jordan asks but he sounds tired, words stoic like he really doesn’t care about the answer and just wants to sleep.

 

Adam rubs his face, willing his erection to go down, ‘ _ you  _ don’t want to.’

 

Jordan doesn’t protest, climbs off the now slightly damp bed. Adam shivers, acutely aware of how he’s wet all over but too confused to make any sharp movements.

 

Jordan returns with a towel, rubbing his head with it and then throws it at Adam. He is still gloriously naked and Adam’s insides twitch longingly at the sight of his body. Jordan slips on a night shirt and hands one to Adam as well. Adam pulls on the shirt and pushes his pants down his hips, swiping the towel across his wet thighs and crotch. Jordan tugs at the covers until Adam gets the hint and clambers off, he discards them in a pile next to the bed and gets under the blankets, gesturing next to him. Adam occupies the space Jordan points out, lying down straight, doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to go to sleep like this.

 

‘Did you like it at least?’ Jordan asks after a long silence and a sigh.

 

Adam doesn’t know what Jordan is actually asking. How could anyone like whatever weird thing just happened? He also wants to ask some of his own questions like ‘ _ what did I do wrong?’  _ but doesn’t think he can without getting in trouble.

 

‘In-in the washroom, it was good.’ Adam responds, honesty has got him so far, maybe it will keep him in Jordan’s bed for one more day. He tries not to be too honest though, doesn’t tell Jordan how he craved for Jordan to  _ wreck  _ him.

 

Jordan nods, runs his knuckles across Adam’s cheek, ‘good, it was good for me too.’ Jordan is obviously lying but his eyes look less distant and Adam can finally relax, takes Jordan’s hand from his face and curls their hands together, shifts so that he’s on his side and facing Jordan.

 

It’s easier to sleep like this, fingers clasped together.

 

*

 

Klopp doesn’t ask him about Adam again but when Jordan doesn’t request to have him sent back for a week, the events planning starts all on its own.

 

The first is dinner with his mother. It’s innocuous enough but Klopp makes loud, sarcastic remarks about how important it is. And the stress starts seeping in little by little. There’s hints that he should get Adam fitted with formal robes for the occasion which sounds ridiculous at first. Jordan wouldn’t wear a tunic when he’s around his mother but he isn’t about to break out floor length embroidered robes for her either.

 

Klopp feels otherwise and eventually Jordan is swept up in his madness.

 

Jordan tries not to make a big deal of it in front of Adam -  _ it isn’t a big deal  _ \- but he cares about his mother liking Adam for some reason. This is why it was so easy for Klopp to manipulate him (and not because Klopp is a master manipulator, Jordan is far too smart for that). 

 

At the end of the day, even if his mother doesn’t like Adam, there’s no reason to change anything. Adam is but a prop in Jordan’s tribute to the earth during his coronation. It is a high honor for sure but Adam is not Jordan’s husband, he doesn’t need to be Jordan’s husband. Jordan doesn’t secretly wish to do the ceremony with his husband either.

 

As casual as it all is, here he is, rolling the same piece of bread between his fingers till it’s squished into a ball of cooked dough, ‘you are to meet the queen in three days.’ Jordan says, voice as steady as he can manage. Adam nods, not a hair in his professional head moves and continues eating. Adam must be well versed in entertaining royalty in any type of occasion.

 

‘You have a robe fitting tomorrow.’

 

‘A robe fitting?’ Adam does pause somewhat now, he must have clothes for every occasion as well, ‘Is this a formal occasion?’

 

‘No, no. I just want you to look-’ Jordan doesn’t want to imply that Adam doesn’t know how to dress for the queen, he doesn’t know why he went along with Klopp’s stupid notions exactly. Adam looks at him expectantly.

 

Jordan’s cheeks burn at the thought of what he really wants, he wants them to look like a couple,‘-I’d like it if we were in sync.’ He finishes.

 

Adam nods, ‘clothing wise?’

 

‘And otherwise.’ Jordan mutters.

 

Adam does look surprised then, a quick rise of his eyebrows that shoot down to normal height instantly. Jordan likes looking for these little breaks in Adam’s perfect facade. He doesn’t know if Adam is just not as great at his job or if he’s just human and can’t do it constantly now that they are together all the time.

 

Adam reaches for his hand, a little hesitant, squeezes Jordan’s fingers when Jordan doesn’t make to shake it off.

 

‘I think we can be in sync.’ Adam reassures and Jordan doesn’t know what he’s being reassured for but feels his stomach settle, eats his doughy bread.

 

*

 

Adam sighs, relaxing his shoulder and Britta clicks her tongue at him. Adam rolls his eyes and lifts his hands again so she can fasten the inner cords of his robes. The shoulders are padded and heavy with intricate embroidery, they keep sliding off Adam’s slender shoulders.

 

‘You practiced your table manners, yesterday?’ Milly starts for the third time through his checklist.

 

Adam only barely manages to humor him without snapping, ‘Yes.’

 

‘Conversation starters?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Up to date on current politics?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Memorized some verses from her favorite poet?’

 

Adam finally sighs irritatedly, mostly because he’s not confident he can actually recite them, he didn’t much care for Rafa Benitez’ intellectuality, ‘Yes.’ 

 

Adam might be a little overconfident from having lasted close to two weeks with the prince. After all, Jordan hasn’t touched him since that one night and he is emotionally as closed off as ever. But Adam is pretty sure that at this point Jordan would resist looking for a new partner out of sheer laziness. Jordan has finally started relaxing into their routine, doesn’t work late just to avoid him and actually eats his dinner instead of just picking at it. He’s even cracked a few smiles at Adam’s stories regarding the shenanigans at the harem and made more than a few disparaging comments regarding Klopp, looking immediately embarrassed afterwards, like he hadn’t meant to.

 

‘Adam!’ Britta chastises when Adam shifts and accidentally steps on his train, pulling out some of the pins she’d painstakingly put in the heavy cloth to keep it in place around Adam’s feet.

 

‘Sorry!’ He says, ‘I don’t understand why I have to get dolled up like I’m marrying him.’ Adam complains.

 

‘I’m not sure that it  _ isn’t _ a marriage.’ Britta murmurs, mostly in annoyance at having to dress up an unruly child.

 

‘What’d you say? Milly, are you forcing me into a marriage?’ Adam screeches, loudly and on purpose just to grate on Milly’s nerves.

 

Milly rolls his eyes, ‘you wish.’ he bites back. Milly starts packing his things in, he was here only to prepare Adam for the dinner with the queen which - a casual affair - Milly had insisted before taking out a huge checklist and racking up Adam’s nerves. Adam is mostly fine, except that he’s already sweating underneath the clothes.

 

When Milly leaves, Britta finally relaxes a little. Putting finishing touches in Adam’s hair, she twists back the sides so it looks braided from the side. With their faces at this proximity Adam can tell that Britta is holding something back, darting to look at into his eyes surreptitiously from time to time.

 

‘What?’ He finally asks.

 

Britta looks at him sheepishly as she dabs glitter around his eyes, ‘it’s not my place to comment.’ Adam half expected this answer, she’s unfortunately fiercely loyal to Jordan. But after two weeks partnering up to care for Jordan’s comforts Adam thinks they’re some kind of friends.

 

‘You know your insights have been really helpful to - you know-  _ adjust _ with him.’ 

 

Britta blushes, pleased, ‘he can-he can be difficult to understand.’ That’s an understatement, after two weeks, Adam can say that he at least knows that he doesn’t understand Jordan, at all. It’s only through Britta’s clues and hints that he’s been able to gauge Jordan’s moods and act accordingly. Even then, he hasn’t managed to make it back into his arms even though they still sleep on the same bed, ‘but-but I think he cares about you.’ 

 

This genuinely surprises Adam. Jordan is courteous, sure, but their interactions are still stilted and mostly formal. Adam did think Jordan cared about him, but in a way he would care about all his subjects; as a prince.

 

‘He looks at you like-this won’t sound good but i swear it’s a good thing-like he looks at puppies.’

 

Adam has to laugh, his breath falls across Britta’s face who laughs back at him.

 

‘Stay still.’ She demands still smiling, holding his chin in his hands so she can finish applying the kohl.

 

Britta moves away from him abruptly when the door opens and Jordan walks in. His eyes pass over the two of them but he doesn’t say anything as Britta abandons Adam’s face to curtsey. Adam usually doesn’t curtsey anymore but it’s awkward to not do it when Britta has done it, they’re closer in station than Adam is to Jordan, after all.

 

Adam curtseys and Jordan’s face scrunches in annoyance as he waves his hand to gesture that formalities are not necessary.

 

‘When you’re done with Adam, Britta, can you help me with the fastenings on mine, please?’ Britta curtseys again as she nods. She turns to Adam and quickly finishes his makeup clearly antsing to serve Jordan. She all but runs to help Jordan put the robe on over his shoulders. It’s not quite on Adam’s level but it’s still a formal, floor length robe and heavy enough that it requires fastenings around Jordan’s shoulder. 

 

Jordan is done in less than half the time it took Adam, a little bit in part because he’s not fidgety and rebellious like Adam but mostly because Jordan’s clothing is a much less intricate. Everything about Jordan is a lot more subtle, their robes complement each other but Jordan’s doesn’t have a train, it has less embroidery on it too, only one big flower on the back whereas the entirety of Adam’s is covered with them. It’s the same design, Adam notes. 

 

Jordan is also not wearing any makeup even though Britta offers. There’s something quietly understated about Jordan that takes Adam’s breath away. He looks at himself in the mirror a little frustratedly, feeling like a trussed up show pony. It’s not an unusual feeling - it’s exactly how he felt when he was first presented to Jordan. Especially when Jordan had laid eyes on him, curious and mildly disgusted like he was looking at a foreign creature. 

 

He can see why Britta adores Jordan, he is charmingly polite and obedient, following every single one of her instructions so that she’s done fastening the robe in swift strides. Jordan nods at him when they’re ready to head out, steadying him when he falters trying to rise in the garment.

 

Jordan walks in quick long strides and it’s a good thing that Adam has to walk behind him, because all he can manage is an awkward shuffle. He’s seen other members of the harem walk around in this and it looks quite magnificent from the outside, like they’re gliding across the floor but inside they’re always waddling like awkward penguins.

 

‘Glad to see you’re making friends.’ Jordan says, he does sound genuine if not a little strained. Adam doesn’t want to read too much into it.

 

‘Britta is an excellent companion.’ Adam responds, ‘she thinks very highly of you.’

 

‘That’s good,’ Jordan says, ‘I value her service greatly.’ 

 

They walk in relative silence the rest of the way.

 

The queen greets Jordan warmly, envelopes him with a hug and then takes one look at Adam and promptly bursts into laughter.

 

‘Really dear, did Klopp put you up to this?’ Adam feels his cheeks burn and doesn’t know how to answer because he doesn’t know Jurgen Klopp.

 

The question was actually addressed to Jordan who sputters a little before saying, ‘he said it was part of the rituals.’

 

The queen holds Adam’s hand, face warm and comforting, ‘You look lovely dear. But it’s just a family dinner, you can be comfortable.’

 

Adam curtseys on instinct, insisting that he is comfortable.

 

‘That can’t possibly be true, I’ve worn that contraption before.’ 

 

Adam gets a flashback to his first day with Jordan, insisting that there’s no way Adam actually liked waiting for him, cornering him into telling the truth.  _ Liking  _ him for telling the truth.

 

But he can’t be expected to be rewarded for insolence every time, ‘I’m honored for the audience your majesty, including the opportunity to be presented appropriately.’ 

 

There, that’s close enough to the truth.

 

The queen looks exasperated but she rubs Adam’s knuckles comfortingly. It’s Jordan who clicks his tongue, the tops of his cheeks are dusted with pink, ‘this idea was stupid.’ He says before he’s reaching out and tugging one of the knots on Adam’s robe loose. Adam gasps as the front falls open to reveal his modest white shirt underneath.

 

‘Your highness this isn’t-’

 

‘-i know you didn’t want to wear this.’ Jordan says and he’s leaning in now, arms wrapping all the way around Adam’s waist to tug at the lacings at the back. Adam is effectively silenced since it’s true he doesn’t want to keep wearing this and also because he’s suddenly distracted with the intense mix of the smell of Jordan’s body and the must of his perfume. 

 

Adam has his arms raised now as Jordan works to untie the sleeves and Adam angles his head so his nose is pointed towards Jordan, trying his best to not pull Jordan in and just  _ sniff.  _ He catches a glimpse of the queen looking over at them curiously, almost abashedly. Adam is tempted to feel embarrassed but then he thinks about how they will do much, much worse in front of her and doesn’t care anymore. When Jordan has finally pushed the robes past his shoulders, Adam is at least semi-hard and the shirt he’s wearing is sweat soaked and stuck to his back. He must smell horrible, Adam thinks, panicking slightly at Jordan having to smell him for excruciating minutes of stench. But Jordan’s face is expressionless as he drops the robes on a nearby lounge along with his own robe that he manages to unfasten himself.

 

He does feel rather naked right this instant with only a light under-robe thrown over his undergarments but Jordan is stripped down to almost the same extent and at least they’re in this together. The queen, impeccably dressed, looks delighted and pretends that her son and his mistress aren’t somehow half naked in front of her.

 

The dinner is a lot less stilted than Adam had imagined it to go. The queen doesn’t demand to converse on intellectual topics about art or poetry and Adam feels relieved. He’s not stupid but he hates repeating other people’s opinions like they’re his own for the sake of polite company. For a while, its just Jordan and the queen catching up. Jordan looks, oddly relaxed, cheerful almost.

 

At one point, Jordan swallows, brings a napkin up to his mouth and belts out laughing. It’s a loud and jarring noise but Adam is transfixed, he’d never even imagined this Jordan to exist. Eyes closed, pointed canines in full display. A part of him feels a tug of disappointment - he thought he was doing well but it’s abundantly clear that Jordan has been all but tolerating him.

 

‘Adam.’ He startles when the queen calls him and realizes just how intently he had been staring at Jordan. He turns his head towards the queen but looks down at the table in his embarrassment.

 

‘Are you enjoying the main quarters of the palace?’

 

‘There’s less to do, than in the outer quarters.’ He says, it’s been two weeks that all he’s thought about is seducing Jordan with no luck and Adam suddenly realizes he misses his friends. Heck, he even kind of misses Milly though he comes around to check up on him often enough ‘but its been relaxing.’ 

 

‘Well,’ she says, ‘it’s going to get busy soon. Steven is throwing a party for you two.’

 

Jordan chokes on his food, takes a quick drink of water before he says, ‘Steven is throwing a  _ party. _ ’ Adam doesn’t like the way that party comes out, like its some trap. The queen looks like she’s about to roll her eyes, ‘oh Jordan, you’re too suspicious of him.’

 

‘I’m not-’ Jordan says and he blinks a couple of times as though to convince himself, ‘-suspicious.’

 

‘Steven can act a little dodgy sometimes, but he’s just a bit awkward.’ The queen says and Adam has to stuff some beef into his mouth to stop himself from gaping at the queen calling Duke Gerrard ‘just a bit awkward’.

 

‘Is this part of the official proceedings?’ Jordan asks and Adam can hear the strain in his voice. Something about it makes Adam want to get out of it.

 

‘It is not official however it is still mandatory. I know you don’t like appearances Jordan but this entire ceremony is about appearances-about what you’d give for the kingdom.’

 

Adam can feel the steel of Jordan’s frame next to him, without even looking at him. He steadily shovels some potatoes into his mouth. If his mouth is full, he’ll never be asked for an opinion, not that neither the Queen nor Jordan seems to remember he’s there at all.

 

Jordan rises from the table abruptly and Adam is suddenly caught between quickly swallowing half chewed roasted potatoes and following in suit of his master.

 

‘Very well. I’ll prove my worth.’ Jordan turns towards the door with a curt nod and Adam has exactly 3 seconds to curtsey 5 times before also taking his leave and scurrying after Jordan.

 

After briskly walking across one long hallway Jordan asks, ‘did you eat?’ He doesn’t sound angry but its forceful and it makes Adam nervous, the potatoes sloshing around his stomach, a heavy, uncomfortable weight reminding him that he had in fact eaten.

 

Adam nods, remembers that Jordan striding in front of him can’t see him and then stutters, ‘yes, your highness.’

 

‘Good.’ Jordan says and Adam only feels the slight lurch like a vertigo attack before he’s pressed against the wall, Jordan pressed against him. In the end, it’s Jordan and not vertigo that attacks and Adam kind of just hangs in there for the ride. Adam doesn’t really get much thinking time before Jordan’s tongue is vehemently inside his mouth. He clutches Jordan’s shoulder and tries to keep up but Jordan is fucking his mouth with his tongue, in pace with the rock of his hips against him. 

 

When Jordan retracts they’re both panting and Jordan is looking at him darkly. 

 

Adam is aroused no doubt but there’s also a kind of clawing in his chest. Jordan turns around and keeps walking without another words and Adam kind of gets what’s wrong.

 

It’s the first time with Jordan he feels like...a whore.


	3. Chapter 3

Adam dunks his head in the water. He regrets it almost immediately, its bath water filled with milk and rose water and the smell hits the back of his nose, like the world will smell mildly like concentrated flower petals for the rest of his life.

 

But it still does nothing to will his erection down.

 

Jordan has been confusing and Adam doesn’t necessarily want to be into whatever it is that he’s going through. But he gets kissed at random moments of the day, to the point that it’s become a constant anticipation now. Adam is surprised his back isn’t more bruised with the number of walls he’s been shoved against in the last two days. It’s not like Adam isn’t a willing recipient to Jordan’s advances, but it always feels kind of forced. There’s never any buildup or touching, Jordan goes from 0 to 100 in a matter of seconds and Adam can’t quite reconcile his soft nature with the hard lines of his muscles and the insistent press of his lips everytime Jordan kisses him.

 

Adam gives in eventually, lets a hand snake down his stomach, feels an odd amount of shame as he holds his cock. He presses his heated cheeks against the cool sides of his tub and tugs, the movement feels sluggish under the water and he’s let the water run kind of cold hoping that, it would sort out his erection for him. But it hadn’t and so here he is, jerking off in tepid water.

 

It feels wrong to be turned on by Jordan, he seems so very reluctant all the time that thinking about him in this manner feels like he’s crossing some sort of line. But Jordan is so beautiful and there are streaks of tenderness in him that leaves Adam so very weak. He wants to focus on this morning- and he is- just on the wrong detail. He wished he was thinking about Jordan’s tongue in his mouth, tries to think about it.

 

_think about Jordan’s tongue in your mouth_

 

And Adam tightens his fist, feels the tiny sparks shooting up his thighs. But that just makes him think about how stiff Jordan had been, sucking on his lips like Adam was a mandated cup of wine he’d been straddled with during a banquet.

 

But instead Adam’s mind keeps wandering to what happened after, when Britta had brought them breakfast and Jordan had picked up an apple and a paring knife from from the platter. He leaned against the table looking adorably rumpled while he peeled the apple, turning it slowly in his large, veiny hand and then cut it into pieces. Jordan had paused to suck off a drop of juice running between the valley of his thumb and forefinger, before finishing his task and Adam’s stomach had been in knots watching him.

 

Adam finally gives in and lets his mind wander to where it wants to. He imagines a scenario where Jordan had held up a slice for him instead of putting them back on the plate for the taking. In his mind, Jordan holds a slice of apple to Adam’s lips and Adam eats it, tongue flicking out to taste the sweet remnants on Jordan’s fingers. When he’s done swallowing he holds Jordan’s hand in his, licks them properly, taking in one elegant digit into his mouth. Jordan moans when Adam sucks in his fingers like its his dick and he caresses him like he’d done the apple. His free hand starting at Adam’s cheeks, then moving down across his shoulders and down his chest.

 

Adam is suddenly aware of how tight his body is, his jaw hurts from being pressed against the tub so hard and the elbows on his free hand stings from being squished.

 

 _Jordan_ Adam thinks

 

‘ _Jordan.’_ he whispers, admits into existence how much he wants this, how much he wants his own fingers tweaking his nipples to be Jordan’s instead.

 

He whimpers out a wanton _Jordan_ in his fantasy as well. And Jordan looks pleased, almost fierce as he stops caressing Adam’s nipples and pushes him down onto the floor, his beautiful perfect cock slapping Adam across the face and Adam’s mouth waters as he thinks about having it in his mouth.

 

 _This isn’t sad_ Adam thinks, it’s not sad because it’s not like this is impossible. It’s just a little too possible, Jordan must make love like the gentleman he is and Adam is almost there, he knows it deep down that he’s just _so close--_

 

He comes harder than he expects from just his hand, shaking with the force of his orgasm that seems to tingle across his body for long moments after.

 

*

 

‘Are you ready?’

 

Jordan asks him and it’s a fruitless question, Britta has just finished lacing him up, he’s obviously ready. There’s just something woefully nervous about Jordan’s face and Adam can’t help sidling up to him, put a hand on Jordan’s bicep.

 

‘Yes, you?’ He tilts his head to look into Jordan’s eyes and is rewarded with a tiny, grateful smile. Jordan clasps their hands together and exhales before whispering a quiet, ‘yes.’

 

On their way out Adam notices Britta looking decidedly down at the floor. _One of these days_ Adam thinks with an evil chuckle _we’re going to properly scandalize her_. But that glee deflates when he turns to Jordan’s unrelenting form in front of him.

 

The carriage ride is quiet but thrumming with Jordan’s nervous energy. It starts affecting Adam too, even though these balls are his forte. It’s basically any harem employee’s forte. Milly was quick to inform him after the dinner with the queen that Sir Gerrard’s party was a royal fertility ball- basically one giant fuckfest. The harem’s involvement depends on the scale and Milly’s cryptic clues suggest that nearly the entirety of the harem would be present at this one. Honestly, he’s kind of excited to reunite with Emre and make fun of the royals as they pig out on the food of the court.

 

Adam can’t imagine Jordan suddenly wanting to have sex with him in the middle of a ball when he hasn’t touched him properly in private, so it will be a bit of a vacation. Perhaps Jordan’s drunk friends will tell him something about how to get to his heart- _or body-_ whichever, it’s not like Adam is particularly _invested_ in one over the other.

 

The party doesn’t come to a halt when they walk in, there’s no fanfare for these fertility parties where people are encouraged to act outside the rigid propriety of station, but a hush does fall on the crowd around the entrance, many people turning to curtsey at Jordan. Jordan bows back and so does Adam, remembering Milly’s furious instructions to present himself as a consort rather than a concubine.

 

The party is centered in a garden attached to a more traditional ballroom. People dance and talk inside and come outside to fuck under the stars.

 

The number of times people stop Jordan to kiss him is too high and frankly kind of annoying. Adam can’t believe he’s irked at all the chaste kissing, whereas Jordan has been making out with him continuously - _albeit not very well_ \- and they also share a bed. Jordan introduces him from time to time to people who are curious. Jordan turns around to him and says, ‘this is Adam.’ He doesn’t say anything more and Adam can only imagine that it’s on purpose so he doesn’t give into the temptation of introducing himself as ‘ _hi I’m Adam and I’m bound to have sex with the prince sooner or later_ . _No really, I swear.’_

 

‘Jordan Henderson!’ Comes a loud jolly voice and Adam knows it’s Sir Gerrard even before the man is in his view.

 

‘Steven Gerrard!’ Jordan hollers back and there’s a genuine edge of glee that Adam hasn’t seen in Jordan since that time he recounted the tale of how Klopp had tripped in court and ripped his pants. Jordan holds Sir Gerrard warmly and they look at each other for a long while, there’s something _intimate_ about the way Sir Gerrard’s hands is curled into Jordan’s nape. When they kiss, it lingers and Jordan’s eyes are closed, hands sliding up to the lapels of Sir Gerrard’s robes. They part with an audible smack and Jordan still seems transfixed, it’s Sir Gerrard who turns to Adam turns on a crooked smile and hugs him.

 

‘And this must be Adam.’ He says and then he smells Adam’s shoulder with a hum, ‘heard so much about you.’ Adam bows his head.

 

‘You have?’ It’s Jordan who chimes in, looking kind of pale.

 

Sir Gerrard turns to Jordan curiously, ‘yes from your mother, Her Royal Highness, the Queen. She’s quite taken in by him.’

 

‘You’re too kind.’ Adam responds with another bow and feels annoyed at Jordan’s look of relief. If Jordan can’t let himself relax in a freaking sex party, then there really is not much hope for him. Sir Gerrard gestures for some wine and Adam has to stop himself from scrambling to serve him. Right, he’s here with Jordan and not as a concubine from the harem.

 

It’s odd being on the receiving end of the deep curtsy with a platter of wine glasses thrust in his face. He takes a glass as does Jordan.

 

‘I’ll have to welcome some other guests but please join in the fun.’ Sir Gerrard leans in to whisper in his ear, ‘Don’t just let him watch.’ He says before retracting with a quick wink. He slaps Jordan’s ass as he’s leaving, ‘We’ll catch up in a bit.’

 

*

 

Jordan always has a plan at these parties. The first being not to attend them, the second beelining to where some fool is playing strip poker. Now that he has Adam, he imagines people wouldn’t bother him to hook up if Adam just sat somewhere in the vicinity of his lap and looked preoccupied.

 

But Adam had scowled at him when Stevie left and Jordan didn’t have the courage to make the request.

 

Jordan has just won his fourth game, the other party down to his underwear. He turns to his side to flash a grin at Adam, who smiles at him politely. But it’s very generic, harem concubine generic and Jordan isn’t sure how it went wrong. He won every game.

 

Sir van Dijk looks at him, unperturbed with his nakedness, ‘Your Highness, it was a pleasure playing with you.’ He says and bows, he has one of the court escorts behind him who follows suit and bows at Jordan. Jordan nods his head at them. He recognises the escort, mild mannered and bright smile, as the one who had visited him for the very first time when his mother decided to start this madness. Sir van Dijk rises and takes the escort’s hand, who giggles at him pleased with the gesture, curls bouncing with the movement, and leads the escort out into the garden.

 

Jordan is confused, how is the escort of the guy who lost so happy but Adam so, _so stoic_. Either he’s a terrible actor and needs to get on the level of the other escort in terms of faking his happiness or someone needs to explain to him that winning is a good thing.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ Jordan asks and Adam raises his eyebrows at him before schooling his face into a perfect example of politeness.

 

‘Nothing is wrong. Congratulations on your _multiple_ wins.’ There it is again, why does Adam sound so bitter?

 

‘Adam.’ He says trying to sound stern, ‘there’s no need to suddenly start acting proper now.’ Adam roll his eyes at him and Jordan has to remind himself that he basically begged for Adam to roast him.

 

‘Your highness- this is a _sex_ ball- and you are still fully dressed. You’re supposed to get naked during strip poker.’

 

‘But not if... _you win._ ’

 

‘People don’t _win_ strip poker four times in a row. No one wants to _win_ at strip poker at a sex ball!’ Adam’s voice is now a fierce whisper. His entire face is scrunched up like a tiny, furious puppy and Jordan can’t help but smile at it. Jordan picks out a strand of his hair sticking out and brushes it back.

 

‘ _Oh?_ ’ He says, voice laced with mirth, ‘what are people _supposed_ to do at sex parties, then?’

 

Adam pouts, but Jordan can see the edges of a smile poking through, before picking at the lacings on Jordan’s robe, ‘well you could start by following dress code.’ Adam looks up at him nervously, but his fingers are slowly pulling at one of the fastenings. Jordan watches it come undone with bated breath, he chances a look over at Adam whose eyes are fixed on his face and Jordan feels the robe loosen around his shoulders as Adam pulls open the second fastening. Time moves like molasses between them as Adam’s fingers start at his neck, slide down his chest over Jordan’s undershirt only just barely peeking through.

 

There’s a part of Jordan that wants to stop him, but he ends up with his arms clasped around Adam’s waist. Adam jerks closer, pulling on the third lacing and breath warming up the soft cotton covering his chest.

 

‘Oh no, _no_. The Prince cannot be hiding away in a corner, now can he?’ Adam breaks away from him at the sound of Stevie’s voice. Jordan’s heart races for a completely different reason now, Stevie’s hand feels clammy on the back of his neck, his face entirely too close, nose brushing against Jordan’s cheek.

 

‘C’mon Jord, you’re the star of the ball.’ Stevie is smiling that little crooked smile of his and Jordan is transfixed, he needs to retract but the stern ‘no’ is caught in his throat. Stevie turns to Adam, laces their fingers together and pulls him closer to them, ‘you are too, Adam. Everyone wants to see the Prince and his royal escort.’ Adam looks between them but he doesn’t protest when Stevie pulls him away. Jordan can only follow, knows where this leads- he’s seen many a special guest put on a show down in the mini amphitheatre in Stevie’s garden.

 

There’s already couples - or more - in varying states of undress around the amphitheatre. The moaning doesn’t bother him, neither does the sex, in fact his ears seem to be blocked, vision a little hazy and the wind whistles uncomfortably past his ears, churning right down into his stomach as he’s pushed down onto the lounge in the centre, he feels the silks of Adam’s robe brush across his face and then with sudden clarity Adam’s face right in front of his.

 

‘Your Highness?’ Adam asks and he remembers this softness in Adam’s voice, Jordan’s body is taut, too taut, he feels like his back is about to pull apart like a stretched out bow. Adam’s hands are on his chest and the contact burns. Jordan tries to breathe.

 

Adam’s hands are around his face and his thumbs dig in, right behind Jordan’s ears, gives him a point of focus, ‘Jordan, what’s wrong?’

 

Jordan breathes, Adam’s lips brushing against the rim of his ears, ‘Jordan, should we leave?’

 

Jordan has enough of his senses about him to know that they can’t leave, that they need to give a show or nobody will believe in their final tribute, he shakes his head and Adam draws back to look at him worriedly, his hands ready at Jordan’s fastenings.

 

Jordan tries to relax. However instead of his own robes falling away its Adam’s, gracefully slithering to the floor until he’s in just his underwear, Jordan slides his fingers under Adam’s shirt in a practiced gesture, Adam is warm and Jordan no longer feels like he’ll combust at the touch of their skin.

 

‘Just look at me.’ Adam says, almost commands and Jordan does more than that, he focuses on Adam, so much so that even the green of the foliage around them seems to fall away. Adam rocks against him for a bit, Jordan can feel Adam’s hardness against him, even though it seems like Adam is trying not to press in too hard, like he’s trying his best to touch Jordan without really touching him.

 

But he gets his fill of looking, of them looking at each other, of Adam’s hazel grey eyes moving down, down his chest, to settle around his waist, Adam pushes his robes up, so that Jordan isn’t undressed but enough such that he can get to Jordan’s cock.

 

For a second Jordan feels his blood rush to where Adam’s mouth waits to take him in, he closes his eyes on autopilot, trying to feel the the velvet of Adam’s tongue lapping up his cock. He is suddenly acutely aware of the heavy breathing, the cheers, the voices of people who aren’t Adam. Adam’s fingers dig into his thighs and the sting makes his eyes fly back open, Adam is still looking straight at Jordan.

 

Jordan refocuses.

 

Adam does his best but Jordan can’t get hard and finally Adam straightens up some, careful so that Jordan’s crotch is covered and gestures for Jordan to lean in.

 

They kiss and Adam uses this opportunity to whisper, ‘fake it.’

 

Jordan nods once, short and imperceptible before Adam bends down again.

 

*

 

All Adam had wanted before the ball was the opportunity to see Emre but now he was lowkey avoiding him.

 

Jordan had pulled him into a corner after their little show to thank him and Adam had stupidly thought that he would get a kiss, a real one. Jordan had kissed him on the forehead and had left him behind, and it felt like he was somehow hurrying away, like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

 

Adam may or may not be hiding behind a bush at the corner of the party spying on Jordan who hasn’t left Sir Gerrard’s side ever since.

 

‘So that was weird.’ Adam startles but he should have known that Emre would be looking for him too.

 

‘What was?’

 

‘Whatever happened out there.’

 

‘Me sucking Jordan off.’

 

‘No, you _pretending_ to suck Jordan off.’ Adam rises from his perch and quickly moves to Emre to shush him.

 

‘Was it that obvious?’ He whispers.

 

‘To the guests? No, my lord was so turned on by it, I had to fuck him twice. To the harem? It’s a fifty-fifty.’ Emre thankfully has moved closer to talk in a lower voice. Adam can’t help admire how not a single hair on his head is out of place after having supposedly fucked someone multiple times.

 

‘Milly?’ Adam asks and to his dismay Emre nods.

 

Tomorrow is going to be awful.

 

‘How are you?’ Emre asks and its bad that Emre looks worried. Emre isn’t easily frazzled but somehow Adam has managed it.

 

Adam so, _so_ wants to respond. Emre is the closest thing to a friend he’s got and Adam is bursting at the seams suddenly with the whirlwind of emotions that Jordan has been making him feel.

 

‘I’m good.’ He responds, hand on Emre’s elbow and Emre looks hurt for a second. Emre eventually nods, understands that they all have professional boundaries to keep, he moves closer to hold Adam and Adam clings on like a lifeline.

 

Adam can’t help the shaky breathe when he says, ‘can you squash the rumors?’ and feels Emre nod against his temple. He wants to kiss him, like the millions of times they’ve taken comfort in each others arms before but they’re both in the middle of work and this is already more liberty than they’re allowed to take.

 

Emre kisses him softly behind his ear and Adam holds onto that touch, already replaying it even though Emre hasn’t even let him go.

 

Emre sits with him the rest of the night, as the party begins to wind down around them, guests moving to quarters within Sir Gerrard’s house or returning home. Jordan eventually finds him in his corner, long after the departure of Emre and the harem.

 

‘We’re going home.’ He says and Adam nods, the word ‘ _home’_ ringing like a cruel reminder of how he has nowhere to go but from bed to bed. That perhaps thinking of the harem as home has been the closest he’s ever come to not feeling like an imposter.

 

At least, Jordan doesn’t thank him again.

 

Jordan stops to say goodbye to Sir Gerrard before they leave, and there it is again that soft lingering kiss, except now that the garden is mostly empty Jordan appears less inhibited somehow, his hands cupping around Sir Gerrard’s face while Sir Gerrard’s hands smooth down his back.

 

When Jordan parts from him, he looks like he’s never wanted to let go.

 

Adam is glad that he’s too tired to feel much of anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I updated? what a miracle???? kudos and comments appreciated. thanks for your patience. i apologize for being an uninspired gremlin but i am grad school so that sucks out most of my creativity on tumblr as [kevin-the-bruyne](https://kevin-the-bruyne.tumblr.com/)


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